Please Bear with Me

I am taking so long
to build out this web site not
because I'm not working hard or that I have other priorities.
The problems I aim to solve are so difficult that every hour I spend
writing something new comes at the cost of two days contemplation
on what to write next.

This is a work in progress, but I regard what I have written so far
as being worthy of publication all on its own. -- Jon

What I Learned at the California Institute of Technology

While I was correct when I knew that you would all piss yourselves laughing
when I finally told you what The Secret was, I was not only quite mistaken
as to The Secret's true nature, but denying the very existence of The Secret
in the most batshit psychotic way.

I won't tell you quite yet what The Secret I was really referring to was, but
when I finally do you will agree that I made the right decision to post it at PRQ AB.

But when you read the rest of
this essay, not only will you have found that not only have I asked Rusty to close
my K5 account in a way that puts Mindpixel's route out the building
completely to shame, you will struggle desperately to get all those Scandinavian
folks to award me the Nobel Prize in Suicide before I no longer have the ability
to appreciate the fact that I had finally won the Nobel Prize I always wanted.

You will regard my delusion that I am The Second Coming of Christ as no delusion
when I go on to explain how I will explain in a transparently simply and obvious
way why all blonde people will point out
to you that they will award me both the Peace and Medicine prizes instead.

The Navajo Code Talkers were cryptologists during World War II who were able
to conceal allied communications from the Nazis just by chatting over radios
in the Navajo language.

Psychotics speak in code in a way that
makes no sense to anyone. Every Psychotic's encoded speech leads every Sane person to
regard every Psychotic as delusional.

The Sane speak in code in a way that makes no sense to Psychotic people. The encoded speech
of the sane leads every Psychotic to regard every Sane person as delusional.

It is for this
reason that Unabomber Theodore Kaczynski devoted two decades or so to eluding capture by law
enforcement while sending letter bombs with which he murdered several University professors and
grievously crippled several others. Each such bomb was accompanied by a detailed explanation of
just why he sent each such bomb to that specific University professor. The most famous such
detailed explanation is now known as The Unabomber Manifesto.

All Ted hoped to achieve was to point out the errors of their ways to the Academic Community:
he regarded Modern Technology as a threat to the natural environment. By murdering University
professors, he hoped to bring about the salvation of the natural environment by restoring Sanity
to those who Theodore Kaczynski knew were the most floridly delusional kinds of people.

Neurotics speak in code in a way that no one notices.

Psychotherapists understand both kinds of code.

Psychotherapists can speak code to psychotics in a way that they make complete sense to each other.

Psychotherapists can hear what neurotics are really talking about, then say what the neurotics
have been in incredible pain since the earliest days of their childhood because their parents are
so viciously and sadistically cruel that they refuse to say it to them.

Child psychologist Alice Miller's
short, simple, lucidly written book Drama of the Gifted Child explains that
psychotherapists learn to speak in code because their parent's great suffering
enables them to start teaching their children that code from the earliest days
of their infancy.

Just mentioning Drama of the Gifted Child to my psychotherapist
Dr. I. led her to become overwhelmed with grief.

This also leads to the bizarre phenomenon that psychotherapists often take
their lives in the most spectacular ways, and that sometimes they murder their
own clients during a therapy session before they a final, fatal end to
their own fifty-minute hour.

The Nobel Prize in Medicine was awarded last November by a certain quick thinking military
police officer to Fort Hood Army Psychiatrist Major Nidal Malik Hassan when he
made his great discovery transparently obvious to thirteen of his fellow soldiers,
but was only able to get thirty-two others get a general understanding of
what he was referring to.

The discussion of my former psychiatrist Anita Hirsch that
was right here has been moved to my new page Toxic
Psychiatry.

Not only did British Petroleum blow a smoking crater into the floor of the
Gulf of Mexico, they did so in the most ignorant way. Despite the fact that
the petroleum industry has deep insight into Methyl Hydrate, in ice-like crystal
composed of Methane and water that forms under tremendous pressure, they thought
it might help to capture most of the leaking oil with a giant, incredibly heavy concrete
dome.

Within seconds, the dome was completely filled with Methyl Hydrate crystals
and so had to be removed.

I then suggested we detonate the most powerful Hydrogen Bomb in America's nuclear
arsenal as close to, but not quite on top of the Gulf Blowout so we could
watch the ensuing events enfold on national television. localroger
was convinced that the entire global petroleum industry was completely out of its
tree because some of them had the idea that to detonate a nuclear weapon not quite
on top of, but as close as possible to the Gulf blowout might be a good idea.

Get This:

I read in the paper this morning that British Petroleum didn't even apply
for an ecological drilling license.

Perhaps you can see now what I am referring to when I suggest that the only truly
satisfying way to fix bugs, is not to fix the software, but to fix the humans.

It is only during a form of psychotherapy during a psychotherapist's
graduate work known as Training Analysis that they finally realize why,
during the freshman year of their undergraduate work, they found their Psych class to incredibly fascinating.

Both of my parent's overpowering suffering enabled them to
teach me to speak in code in such a way that
I have lived with such an overpowering delusion that I was Jesus Christ, that by the
time I was four years old, if you were suffering I could heal you without either of
us even being aware of what was going on if you so much as struck up a conversation
with me. This process accellerated to the point
that in July 1985, I performed all manner of biblical miracles all over the place
at a psychiatric hospital in July 1985.

The staff understood from the start what I
was doing, but they all regarded me as the Second Coming of Christ because I figured
out how to do it.

Grandpa Rex, my mother and my Aunt Peggy's father, was the most incredible man.
He worked his way through medical school working part time jobs. He spoke fluent
Latin but despite being a Presbyterian, he sang in the Catholic choir so he could
keep his Latin in top form. He was a chief surgeon at a hospital in Spokane,
Washington, was a Medical Officer in the Army Air Corps during World War II, and went
on some kind of secret mission during the war that none of us know anything about.

He a grand piano in his living room. After opera singers would perform in the
symphony hall, he'd invite them over to his place then accompany them in the piano
while they gave a private performance for him, my grandmother Florence, my
aunt and my mother.

In 1948, when my Aunt and my mother were just eight years old, Grandpa Rex
suddenly dropped dead.

None of you believe I can make schizophrenics stop hallucinating, but all
I require to get myself 5150ed is to make that claim to a mental health professional.

Last November I drove at ninety miles an hour all the way from Santa Cruz to Palo Alto.
Dominican Hospital in Soquel was only a few miles away but I knew that Stanford Medical would have a
twenty-four psychiatrist on call.

I begged her to admit me because I realized
I was well on my way to putting David Koresh completely to shame. She agreed to
admit me, but only because I had the delusion I knew what to do what David Koresh
did. They refused to discharge me because I told them I could make schizophrenics
stop hallucinating. They released me the very next day because I told them I
needed to get a job.

All that was required to hurl me headlong into twenty-six years of the most
irretrievable kind of batshit insanity was to read just the first chapter of
Drama of the Gifted child - "How We Become Psychotherapists" - then discuss it
with the Intro to Psychology class I enrolled in when, completely out of nowhere and
for no apparent reason, I switched my major from Literature to Physics.

The only human being on the entire planet in the entire time since my change of major
who didn't regard that as the most batshit
insane act of my entire existence was Richard Feynman. Feynman was a Theoretical
Physicist and a Nobel Laureate. He is one of the most insightful people to have
ever set foot on the Caltech campus: when the committee that investigated the
the first space shuttle explosion struggled desperately to cover up the reason
it exploded, Feynman got so pissed off that he made the reason plainly transparent
to the entire United States Congress with a glass of ice water and a small
rubber O-Ring. When rubber gets cold, you see, it hardens, so when you bend it
it doesn't flex it, it breaks.

When it got real cold the night before the launch, the engineer to designed the
O-Rings that sealed the sections between each of the shuttle's solid rocket
boosters immediately alerted his superiors to the danger, but Morton Thiokol
didn't pass the word on to NASA.

Seven completely innocent and incredibly
brave astronauts gave their lives, the American taxpayers paid billions of dollars
and America lost one-fourth of its shuttle fleet because Morton Thiokol was concerned it
might not be able to bring home the bacon anymore.

As I returned to Ricketts House on my way back from my changing my major, I
came across Feynman walking with my good friend Tsutomu Shimomura. Tsutomu
left his family during high school so he could do original research work at the
Princeton Astronomy Department while working a part-time job as a hundred dollar
an hour computer consultant. I always got better grades than Tsutomu did because
he never bothered with any of his classwork, but devoted his time at Tech to
original Theoretical Physics research, much of it in collobaration with Richard
Feynman.

Tsutomu, at the time, was a Japanese citizen. The Manhattan Project was a
collobaration with the British, with scientists from several other nations in Los
Alamos as well,
but when word got out about the napkin sketches
that Klaus Fuchs would pass to Julius and Ethel Rosenberg when they met for coffee
in Los Alamos now and then during the war, Congress outlawed giving any kind of
foreigner nuclear weapons secrets.

Word eventually got out that Tsutomu was really into Physics, so every weapons
lab in the entire United States started hurling job offers at him. After accepting
one such offer, the United States Congress passed a law granting Tsutomu - and
only Tsutomu - a Q Clearance, the kind required to do nuclear weapons
design.

To the best of my knowledge, Tsutomu never got his Doctorate, but doesn't hold
any manner of college degree. After leaving his work in the weapons biz, he took
up residence at the San Diego Computer Center as a Research Physicist.

When I pointed out that I had learned all the Physics I needed to know, and so
had changed my major to Literature, Tsutomu became so completely convinced that I
was delusional that I have only seen him on two other occassions since our chat
there on campus.

One was when I visited him at his place in San Diego, where
Tsutomu invited me to play with the Sun Workstation in his living room. Kevin
Mitnick played with that same computer some time later, then left a message
on Tsutomu's answering
machine to thank him for his kindness. But by not asking for permission first,
only a few months were required for Tsutomu to do for the FBI what the FBI had struggled
desperately for years, yet failed to do for themselves.

Every Caltech student regarded Feynman as a Heaven-Sent Diety because he felt
it was far more important to teach Physics than to understand Physics. There is
a sculpture of Heaven over the entrance to the Dabney House courtyard. God's face
look just like Feynman's.

I got to know Richard Feynman my freshman year at Caltech. When I took
Quantum Mechanics, I understood it well enough to do well in my homework, but regarded
at as completely delusional because I was heavily into the Newtonian idea of the
Clockwork Universe. Only a few months of discussing with Feynman chalkboard diagrams
of a simple experimental apparatus known as the Two Slit Experiment consisting of
two narrow, parallel slits with some photographic film on one side and a pinpoint
light source on the other not only convinced me that Quantum Mechanics was correct,
but gave me a deep insight into it.

The reason I regard Feynman as a Heaven-Sent Diety is that he was able to have
the same insight as I did, at the exact same time:

I needed to learn how to write, so I could write the essay I am now posting
to the queue right now.

Feynman could
solve systems of partial differential equations numerically just by thinking about
doing so. It was his deep insight into numerical analsysis led the Manhattan
Project to have Feynman lead the Los Alamos Computing Division despite the
fact that he was just a graduate student in his early twenties. Feynman went on
to enable the Manhattan project to design both kinds of atomic bombs - the Uranium
assembly bomb and the Plutonium implosion bomb - so that both kinds worked on the
very first try and to detonate with such collossal force that the Trinity Test -
a Plutonium bomb - knocked a man completely flat to the ground at a distance of
ten miles.

Just have a bunch of smart guys hang out in a big room for a year or so
with tables of logarithms and mechanical adding machines.

That's It.

Feynman's wife lay dying of Lymphatic Tuberculosis in a hospital in Alberquerque
most of time he was at Los Alamos. Her illness was diagnosed during their
engagement. His entire family completely disowned him when he married her anyway.
Thier wedding took place with no witnesses in a Justice of the Peace's office. At
the end of their ceremony, he gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

I can see now that, despite being Jewish, Feynman quite likely had the delusion
that he was Jesus Christ as well. That's probably why he and I got to be such good
friends at Tech.

Feynman's buddy Klaus Fuchs rode along with him whenever he went to visit Ms.
Feynman so he could hang out with his friends Julius and Ethel Rosenberg during the
Feynman's visits together. It was Klaus' pencil sketches of the explosive lenses
that he drew of the Plutonium bomb that got the Rosenberg's executed.

It was the fact that Klaus Fuchs split the scene completely at the end of
the war that spared his life: while Klaus was still convicted, it was not for
treason. During the War, the Soviets were British allies.

J. Edgar Hoover wondered who might have asked Fuchs to accompany Richard Feynman
when he went to visit his wife. Eventually a couple of soldiers turn up in J.
Robert Oppenheimer's office to guard the safe in that office like a hawk with
fully loaded machine guns.

While he did lose his security clearance, Oppenheimer never actually got
convicted. Decades later Mikhail Gorbachev finally clued humanity into
the fact that those two soldiers were hanging out in his office, and the Rosenburgs
got convicted, and Klaus Fuchs knew when to split the scene that yes, in fact,
J. Robert Oppenheimer did agree with the completely reasonble request that Josef
Stalin made of him over coffee one afternoon, to find some way to figure out how
to avoid the entire Soviet Union from having to become a radioactive wasteland
by the mid 1950's.

"I'll have my man Klaus Fuchs accompany Dick Feynman when he visits his wife
in the hospital. Have some of your people meet him while he draws sketches as they
have coffee together."

Every American understands that Mikhail Gorbachev's deep insight is what
finally lead him to launch every ICBM in the Soviet Nuclear Arsenal, not at
America, but at the Berlin Wall. In reality, the reason he did so it that
every form of life in the entire Soviet Union struggled desperately
to find a shotgun so it could spatter its brain's all over the wall the very
instant Ronald Reagan got elected:

Despite the fact Ronald Reagan solved the Central American problem in much
the same way as Adolf Hitler solved the Jewish Problem. Reagan was so incredibly
charming, friendly, and such a gifted speaker that he could fuck up in such a
creativily and Divinely Inspired way that if Reagan so much as tripped over a
banana peel, everyone in sight would leap on that banana peel, because they knew
that would make them two hundred million dollars when that same banana peel was
later sold by an Avante-Garde Manhattan Art Gallery.

A few years after the fall of Communism, I read an article that a former
Soviet spy wrote for Time Magazine: the very
instant Reagan got elected he was hurled with the greatest force from Moscow to
London doing much the same thing that enabled a certain Washington D.C. Domino's
Pizza to realize that the first Persian Gulf War had just started.

When the decision was made to commence the invasion of Iraq, everyone in
the entire Pentagon sat up all night long setting the war into motion. A certain
four star general asked his aide to step over. "I'm getting hungry. Could you
send out for a pizza? Pepperoni and olives, please."

This spy spent Reagan's each night of Reagan's entire presidency
sitting quietly just across the street from the British Defense Ministry building
counting how many had their lights turned on. This would enable the Soviet Union
to completely vaporize all of Western Europe, the United States and Canada before
the completely mind-alteringly state of delusion that Reagan had been living in
since the day he was born would enable him to win the war that the Book of
Revelation explains will eventually lead to Jesus' return to Earth for the
Second Coming, thereby bringing about The End of Time.

Ever since Regan was Governor of California, it has been plainly apparent why
he joined the high school theater. The reason American regarded Reagan as the
Teflon President was that he was such a gifted actor. Reagan lived in a world
of delusion that puts Adolf Hitler completely to shame: he was able to quite clearly,
carefully and lucidly explain in such a way that even the simplest fool in the
Communist World knew why Reagan felt to be a Heaven Sent Prophet, yet lead
everyone in the entire Free World to regard him as a gifted actor:

In the 38th chapter of Ezekiel, it says that the land of Israel will come
under attack by the armies of the ungodly nations, and it says that Libya will
be among them. Do you understand the significance of that? Libya has now gone
Communist, and that's a sign that the day of Armageddon isn't far off.

Biblical scholars have been saying for generations that Gog must be Russia...

For the first time ever, everything is in place for the battle of Armageddon
and the Second Coming of Christ. It can't be too long now. Ezekiel says that
fire and brimstone will be rained upon the enemies of God's people. That must
mean that they will be destroyed by nuclear weapons.

After winning the election, Reagan had televangelists over to the White House
on a regular basis for National Security briefings. Can you understand now, why
Gorbachev dropped all those Hydrogen Bombs not on Washington, D.C., Paris and London
but on the Berlin Wall.

My cousing Glen Thobe is on my mother's side of the family. While much older
than me, he is actually from my generation.
Because he is so shy and quiet and because of the way he dresses, you'd figure
my cousin Glen was a bus driver. But you'd be making much the same mistake about
Glen's occuption as you would be making about Richard Feynman, when it became
plainly apparent the very instant Feynman opened his mouth that he was a taxi driver.

Glen has a degree in Physics and works as the most advanced kind of Electrical
Engineer, generally on Global Positioning System receivers.

Ever since my Cousin Glen pointed out to someone he met one day that happened to
work for the State Department that he was good at Russian, it was plainly apparent
everyone in the entire Free World's Diplomatic Community how to finally
bring about the fall of Communism: send Cousin Glen on an all-expensive paid
vacation to the Soviet Union.

Much of what finally enabled me to finally realize that reason that I flipped
out at Caltech was not in any way the result of any kind of mental
illness, but the fact that the most incredible drug lab on the face of the
planet Earth commenced operation at the California Institute of Technology in plain
sight of the entire Pasadena City Police force the
very instant news of Albert Hoffman's discovery of LSD-25, as well as its
synthesis arrived in Pasadena.

Despite the fact that the source of all the LSD on the entire West Coast of
the United States turned up in a room in Lloyd House during the 1960s, and
despite purchasing several police helicopters at collossal expense then slowly
circling them all over the the Caltech campus night, sweeping the entire campus
after night the entire time I was at Caltech - and, I'm quite sure, ever since -
the Pasadena not only never busted any more laboratories, by the time I showed up
in September 1982, the entire city of Pasadena was in a collective hallucingenic
drug trip that all you have to do to flip completely out is to set foot on the
Caltech campus, and that all that was required to send me to the Andromeda
Galaxy for twenty-eight years was to hang out on campus.

Now see if you can figure out why, when I finally realized this, I attempted
to alert the Portland office of the Federal Bureau of Intelligence by writing a
thirty-page, lucidly and transparently written, incredibly detailed letter with
a great deal of supporting evidence, literature references and a few website links,
when I showed up at their office in Downtown Portland, after I picked up the phone
and said I wanted to tip them off to a hallucinogenic drug laboratory, the agent
told me that they were closed, and that I should come back the next day.

I required a good solid twenty minutes to penetrate the
Portland FBI's stone fortress with my letter. When I was finally able to do so,
three agents were completely overcome with joy at my incredible bravery. I chatted
with them about it for about ten minutes, then came back this morning so I could
discuss it with them personally.

I had to struggle desperately for at least ten minutes just to get them to
unlock the door. When they finally agreed to, they didn't
actually do so: the agent kept thinking he had pushed the button, but
didn't. Two or three minutes were required before I was finally
able to convince him to actually unlock the door. The instant I set foot in the
place, an agent told me that they had accepted my information, then politely asked
me to leave. When I tried to explain, he said it was not a federal matter, then
pointed out that I was on drugs and that I was hallucinating.

I smiled, "Thanks for your help," I replied, then headed back to Starbucks
by my mom's place to tip off, not the law enforcement community, but Kuro5hin.

By the time I showed up in 1982, vast quantities of the most incredibly high
quality of every recreational chemical known to the scientific community had been
either synthesised or grown at the California Institute with wild abandon by not
quite every student, but almost all of them, that the Caltech student's legendary
genius managed to send every law enforcement officer in the entire United States
completely flipping out of their trees in a mind-alteringly psychotic, totally
batshit insane hallucinogen drug trip.

You could have solved the world hunger problem with the pizza toppings my
classmates grew in their closets, but only once the entire time I was there,
my classmate did not find DMT, DMT found my classmate. After pointing out that
smoking DMT was just like smoking burning plastic, the DMT explained to my classmate
that he had the wrong number of arms, legs, fingers and toes. My classmate
instantly agreed, but found himself completely overcome with the worst horror
in his entire existence, when he couldn't figure out why.

You might regard me as brave, but you don't know Caltech students the way I
do. While I expect many Caltechs will read this essay, not only do I not expect
them to become angry, I am quite confident that none of them will have the first
clue as to what I'm referring to.

The only Caltech students that I am aware of who have ever
been arrested for any kind of drug crime was that Llloyd House acid lab.

Some friends of mine had the idea that they might create a hundred foot shower
of sparks by packing a three foot long steel water pipe with Eucalyptus gum, steel
lathe turnings and some kind of oxidizer. They set it out in the middle of Caltech's
athletic field, then lit the fuse. I was on the other side of California Boulevard
on my way to watch the fun when that pipe bomb's collossal detonation, I am quite
certain, could be heard at the Pasadena City Police heardquarters about three
miles away.

Convinced they had all gotten themselves killed, I ran as fast as I could
in hopes I might save their lives somehow. A piece of that pipe fell right next
to me as I crossed California Boulevard a hundred yards from the explosion.
I was overcome with the most incredible
joy when I arrived at a smoking crater in the middle of the athletic field that
was at least a foot and a half across, that not only were bloody chunks of all
three of my friends not scattered all over the place, they had split the scene
completely.

I waited quietly for five minutes or so. Eventually a Caltech security
guarded turned up to ask what the noise was. When he explained he said, "Just
having fun," then wandered back to campus.

I split the scene completely the very instant I hear someone speaking with the
slightest trace of a Southern Accent: everyone I have been able to identify on both
sides of my whole extended family have been, each in their own special way, either
Divinely Inspired Geniuses, or to possess the same kind kind of Divinely Inspired
insight into Genocide that Reagan had about Central Americans, that Adolf Hitler
had about Jews, that President Johnson had about the North Vietnamese, and a few
years later enabled President Nixon to understand that the best way to help
the Cambodian people escape their crushing poverty was to donate every penny
in the United State's Treasury to Pol Pot's election campaign.

I am a direct descendant of Roger Sherman. There is a famous painting of the
signing of the Declaration of Independence depicting four of the signers standing
before the signing table; that same painting is also on back of a particular
United States currency denomination. Roger is the tall guy with the tall forehead.

But I guard from every Southerner in the exact same way and for the exact
same reason that Teller guarded the H-Bomb secret the fact that I am also
a direct descendant of General William Tecumseh Sherman. You probably figure
that the reason is that it was General Sherman who finally figured out how the
North might win the Civil War. No: it is because every Southerner regards Grandpa
Sherman the same way as every Jew regards Adolf Hiter and every Cambodian regards
Pol Pot.

Grandpa Sherman's deep love for the Southern people and the reverent awe with
each he regarded the genteel Southern culture gave him the insight to enable him
to understand how the Northern people might win back the friendship of the Southern
people: tear a huge, broad swath all over the entire Southern United States,
savagely and mercilessly destroying everthing and murdering everyone in his
path.

It was Grandpa Sherman's Heaven Sent insight that lead to so many Southerners
dying in the Civil War. The Civil War was just as destructive to the United
States as World War II was to Europe. It took well over a century before before
the bleeding from the wounds every Southerner suffering from the great gift
Grandpa bestowed them finally stopped bleeding.

While many unsuccessful tries were required before Edward Teller figured out
how to light the Hydrogen Bomb's match, they knew they were well on their way
to the insight they were required when some concrete was mixed not out of cement,
sand and rocks, but cement, steel punching and steel ore, then allowed to set in
a large box after a narrow piece of pipe that reached halfway through
was placed in the middle of the box. The box was taken to a Pacific Island, placed
on a tilted platform carefully pointed directly at one of Teller's prototypes
quite some distance away.

The small piece of plastic in the middle of that box's heavy radioactive
shielding was carefully removed right after the test, then carefully studies by
a Physicist through a powerful microscope.

"Hot Damn!" he shouted with joy, upon finding that piece of plastic film
completely shot through by tracks left by the particles that were the result of
the Hydrogen fusion that sent some of its people round to have a chat with a piece
of plastic buried deeply inside a box made of an incredibly heavy concrete.

The entire city of Livermore, California was completely overcome with horror
when they finally realize they might know to to light that that match. The popping
sound of the first Hydrogen Bomb's Firecracker made the entire city of Livermore,
California to be thrown headlong into deeply delusional, mind-altering batshit
paranoia when it actually worked.

Edward Teller hopped on a plane for a non-stop flight to Washington D.C. then
asked his secretary if the President had a few minutes to spare. "We need to
create a new kind of security clearance. The very existence of that kind of
clearance must be classified as well. To leak the very existence of this kind of
classification should be considered Capital Treason." The president need no
explanation whatsoever.

You will easily understand why the entire planet was thrown headlong into the
most delusional kind of paranoid, batshit psychosis when, not long afterwards,
a seismograph in the United States was able to easily detect the pop of a
firecracker all the way from the Soviet Union, then, a few laters later, China
as well.

Not only did the United States carefully guard the Hydrogen Bomb's secret,
they went to all kinds of effort to carefully, clearly and so lucidly explain
how the Hydrogen Bomb worked in such a way as to enable the simplest fool to
understand in great detail how the Hydrogen, but actually be so far from reality
to as to be delusional.

Magazines and encyclopedias from the 1950's are filled with diagrams of
the complex structure of the hydrogen bomb, typically depicting several Plutonium
bombs inside a large container of Lithium Deuteride that all detonate at the exact
same time. That's how my own encyclopedia enabled me to understand Hydrogen
bombs myself while I was still a young boy.

"It's that simultaneous detonation," Edward Teller himself carefully
explained to the reporters at the press conference that morning in Livermore,
"That finally enabled us to heat the Hydrogen nuclei hot enough so they would
actually fuse."

The entire nation of Pakistan was thrown headlong into a completely
altered state of reality in 1974 when a certain Hindu diety paid a personal
visit to the Prime Minister of India to explain a way to make India's neighbor
quit bitching about the fence between their yards. The entire nation of India
was thrown into a similar reality Pakistan refused to heed their advice so they
decided to bury a half-dozen or so Plutonium firecrackers at the exact same time.

"We need to talk," said the Prime Minister of Pakistan when he rang up the
Prime Minister of India just a few days later.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop! Pop!

You think I'm crazy? No I'll show you crazy: my batshit insanity
can't even hold a candle to that experienced by the Prime Minister of India when
he heard Pakistan's fireworks over the phone.

In reality, a large, hollow metal shell shaped like a pill capsule has a
Plutonium bomb at one end, the rest of it being filled with styrofoam whose
hydrogen molecules are Deuterium - a Proton and a Neutron - and Tritium - a Proton
and two Neutrons. A round bar of Plutonium goes through the middle of the styrofoam
from the Plutonium bomb most of the way through the styrofoam. After the bomb's
detonation, the metal casing reflects the X-Rays emitted by the Plutonium fission
back into the styrofoam, which vaporizes with such incredible force that it
implodes that Plutonium rod.

Teller was correct in that more than one Plutonium bomb was. But he struggled
desperately to prevent the Soviets to get the first clue how to arrange them
inside all that styrofoam.

Tritium's twelve-year half-life was the reason they were testing
Hydrogen bombs on a regular basis until the US stopped testing completely when they
were finally able to build a computer powerful enough, and software complex enough
to model the entire process of an H-Bomb explosion in great detail: Tritium's
two neutrons enable Hydrogen fusion to even happen, but it's quick decay makes
Hydrogen bombs extremely unreliable.

Los Alamos knew from the start that Uranium assembly would work: shoot a Uranium
slug from a cannon through a Uranium ring thereby quickly assembling a piece of the
required size. They never even bothered testing the Uranium bomb. The first one
in history completely vaporized the City of Hiroshima.

They knew from the start that Plutonium would go on to make a few cubic feet
of hydrogen make Moscow shine, just for a short while, as bright as the Sun does.
Beijing would shine in much the same way. Both Uranium and Plutonium have the
same nuclear cascade reaction, but Plutonium's is far more powerful and accellerates
with such tremendous force that they also knew from the start why they need to
implode it instead: the two piece of Plutonium would completely vaporize long before
they got around to so much as introducing themselves to each other.

While they did know that surrounding a piece of Plutonium the size of a baseball
with a layer of explosive about a foot and a half thick would lead to the required
implosion, but some guy had to spend about a year snapping X-Rays of
collossal detonations wrapped around steel baseballs before they realized that the
way to make them implode rather than squirting out all over everywhere in thin
jets of Plutonium vapor was to use explosive lenses.

Two kinds of explosives are used, one with a very fast detonation, one with a
very slow one. With great care, the most talented artists sculpts each kind in
a certain precise, certain specific way, then carefully assembles them around a
Plutonium baseball in a spherical way.

Perhaps know you can understand the incredible terror felt by the guy who
X-Rayed those beautiful sculptures just a day or two before the Trinity test
only to find large air bubbles all over the inside of every single one of those
high explosive art pieces. He stayed awake for an entire night, very slowly,
very carefully, drilling holes through the explosive, melting that same kind of
high explosive on a stove in a soup pot, then pouring it into the holes through a
funnel.

You'll go batshit insane if you so much as contemplate the terror felt by the
guy who gave the Hiroshima bomb one last inspection before its delivery so as to
be sure that the people of Hiroshima wouldn't just toss it in the junk mail bin.
Because of the bomb's large size, he had to lay right on on top of it while he
carefully used a soldering iron to remove the connectors from both ends of a certain
electrical wire, reverse them, then solder them back on.

A hundred thousand citizens of Hiroshima were completely overcome with joy within
a tiny fraction of a second, but it took well over twenty years for the other
hundred thousand people to even understand that a beautiful greeting card had arrived
in their mail box that morning.

A few days later J. Robert Oppenheimer called over to Nagasaki to see how its
day was going.

No one at the Instite was particularly concerned when I flipped out
with such incredible velocity, just one week after discussing just the first chapter
of my psychology book with my psychology class, I asked my friend Bruce Tiemann if
I could borrow his expensive Canon A-1 camera. I knew I was hallucinating and that
these visions were the product of my own fevered imagination. I explained that fact
in great detail to Bruce, but he agreed to lend me his brother Michael Tiemann's
camera because we were both so delusional as to think I could photograph
them.

When the visions didn't show up in the prints, I purchased several professional
photography textbooks, learned to develop and print my own film in the student
darkroom, then within two months, was able to leave the most advanced professional
photographer completely dumbstruck with awe with the most primitive kind of fully
manual camera. Every professional photograph has a nostalgic affection for the
Pentax K-1000, but they never use them for their work. My first K-1000 didn't
even have a light meter. It was over twenty years after digital camera were first
introduced to the public that I regarded them as working well enough to actually
buy one. The Sony camera I eventually bought is so incredibly complex that it
could win an aerial dogfight just by pointing it out the fighter plane's cockpit
window. I set it to fully manual mode and have yet to so much as open the
instruction book.

Michael Tiemann and I had the exact same idea of bringing Richard Stallman's
Free Software to the private companies of Silicon Valley at the exact same time.
Despite fully appreciating what a great idea for a business it was, I never
lifted a finger to do more than contemplate it. I was completely dumbstruck
with awe Michael Tiemman went on to sell Cygnus support to Red Hat
for six hundred million during the Dot-Com boom, where he remains Chief Technical
Officer to this day.

Apple Computer was completely unable to figure out how to find
Cupertino on a map sketched on the back of an envelope whenever it so much as
contemplated the idea of operating systems with preemptive multitasking and
hardware memory protection. The company spent billions of dollars over a period
of many years to do so, yet managed to fuck every single one of them up in such
spectacularly creative and Divinely Inspired ways as to leave computer
programmers who barely knew how to write Hello World completely dumbstruck with
awe.

Perhaps you understand my claim that in reality, software bugs are not
technical problems but human ones, and that the only truly satisfying way to
Solve the Software Problem is not
to fix the bugs, but to fix the humans.

When Jean-Louis finally realized the public would
never accept a new hardware platform, he suggested the Apple give BeOS a try.
When Apple accepted Steve Job's offer instead, I was not at all when I hard later
that Jean-Louis then asked Michael Tiemann to lend him a hand.

I was completely dumbstruck with awe when I learned that Michael Tiemann
had sold Cygnus Support to Red Hat for six million dollars where he remains
Chief Technical Officer to this day. After I blew a smoking crater in the
ground with my software consulting business, I came to regard the fact that I
never acted on the idea that we both had as the worst fuckup of my entire career.
It was only a few days ago that I realized why I made that mistake:

"Thanks for lending me such a nice camera," I said to Michael Tiemann back in
1989. "I've got this great idea for a business. Why don't I give it to you
instead."

Simply learning that the North Koreans were working on The Bomb was all I
required to be hurled headlong into the most incredibly floridly delusional kind
of psychosis I have ever known as a result of my desperate struggle to warn
humanity of the fact that all that was required to refine Uranium was to use ten
percent of the electrical output of the entire United States during World War
to power electromagnets made out of the United States Treasury's entire stockpile
of silver for two years or so.

"We don't measure silver in tons," the United States Treasurer shouted
angrily at the guy from Los Alamos who turned up one day to ask if they could borrow
it until the end of the war. "We measure it in ounces."

All that is required to synthesis Plutonium is to use a Moonshine Still to
distill enough water fill a swimming pool. The Hollywood movie Heroes of
Telemark starring Kirk Douglas depicts what the British regard as the
most successful act of sabotage during World War II: they snuck a bunch of
Revenue Agents into Norway aboard a glider that landed on the snow with skis.
After blowing the Moonshine Still to tiny little pieces, they also sunk a
fully-loaded passenger ferry after Hitler tried to make off with his last bottle
of Moonshine - but not until after the Commandoes ran all over the
entire ferry cheerfully announcing to the kids that they were having a safety
drill and so should don their life jackets.

Not long after the war, a swimming pool turned up in Germany. They found it
odd that Hitler would bury a swimming pool so deeply underground, but were
completely overcome with horror to find it one-third full of Moonshine.

Los Alamos tested Plutonium because there is some subtlety to Implosion
Physics that also lead to what Feynman referred to as Tickling the Tail of the
Dragon:

They fabricated two hemispherical pieces of Plutonium that, when
placed together, would just be slightly below critical mass, fastened one about
a foot off of the top of a table, with its flat side to the right, with the
other arranged in such a way that when they let go of it, it would slide down
the pole so that for a very short time it would form that just slightly
subcritical mass.

The Physicists surrounded the two hemispheres with all manner of radiation detectors,
but knew they would do well to split the scene completely before allowing
them to slide past each other.

To Be Continued.

Read this essay online or reprint it at:
http://www.softwareproblem.net/mental/hallucinogenic-drugs.html